Notes 1
by metameric1
Summary: a few lines in Trent's journal/lyric book. He's started this during the summer before the start of Daria's Sophomore year at Raft. Think he kinda likes her.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N: this is a series of scribbles made by Trent Lane in the margins of his Lyric book, something like a journal. This is occuring in the same AU as Mothers and Daughters.**_

_****__**Disclaimer: Daria and associated characters are the property of**__ MTV and Viacom, or whomever has acquired ownership. This story is fanfiction and written for entertainment purposes only and no money or any other goods have been exchanged. _

* * *

_**Notes**_

A gentle nudge in the dark.

Turning my head, I catch the scent of light summer rain.

In the warmth of the night, she comes to lay down alongside me. Pulling her closer, I marvel at the smoothness of her skin. I feel her breathing in and out, slowly, calmly, quietly. Without meaning to, I find myself breathing in cadence.

A tiny shiver passes through my body. This is a rare moment, one of those moments when perfection crosses the arc of your lifetime. I am content, I am happy, and I am the luckiest guy in the world.

I am complete.

"I love you, Daria."

Small words, released into the darkness.

"I love you too, Trent."

Finally, the timing was right.

No longer separated by the waves and turbulence of life, we could finally reach out and take each other's hand.

How long do we have? Not forever, nothing ever lasts that long. We are mortal creatures; destined to dust.

No matter how much your heart wants these feelings to last forever, they can't. Hear the note, taste the sweetness and let it find its place in your mesh of memory.

Plait our hair together, bring our bodies as tightly together as humans can, and wish in vain for even more.


	2. Notes 2

_**(A/N: apologies to Lulamae-go-Lightly... she started a Daria college journal series, and it inspired me to try something similar.I thought that I would poke around Trent's thoughts during his changes in Mothers and Daughters. These are scribbles in the margins of his lyric book; it seems that he would be wondering about the changes in his own life as Jane and Daria continue to grow. I appreciate that the Trent I'm portraying is pretty different from the original, but he had to grow up someday...)**_

_**Notes 2**_

Ziggy pulled me aside today.

Surprised the hell out of me; he's making me the section manager for guitars and basses. Seems showing up to work on time and giving a damn about customers is good for business.

Maybe it's more that I've come to accept responsibility. Taking care of the girls has been a pain and at the same time it's the most satisfying thing I've ever taken on.

Actually _living_ with Daria has been a revelation. Why someone that smart and talented even bothered with me is still kind of a mystery. At least the narcolepsy isn't such a problem anymore, now that I have medical coverage from the job.

Life has definitely gotten far more complex, both in terms of challenge and richness…being awake more just kinda has that effect.

I actually get to see her fall asleep before I do.

It starts when I get her to sit still for a backrub. Sometimes it ends up with lovemaking, but it's also cool to get her to just relax enough to fall asleep.

The way she slips off is fascinating.

The analytical part of her is the first to go. It's like pulling the cork on a bottle of wine; the constraints of logic can't keep the magical stuff from spilling out. It's like it's splashing around in there, but it can't get out until she stops trying to keep it in.

There is joy in there, the stuff that relishes being alive. We talk, and after awhile the sticky logic that holds things together just _so _begins to soften and dissolve, and she begins to loosen, to free herself. She is learning to take pleasure in that, but it's strange how she seems to feel a little guilty about it.

For her, it's as intimate as making love.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Notes 3**_

Daria has a need to understand things, like the way she has a hard time looking at one of Janey's abstracts without finding something there that she can identify. She's not one to easily accept something simply for what it is; but she recognizes that aspect of her nature and accepts that, being human, she cannot understand everything. She's learned to accept the existence of mystery, but still searches for the key that unlocks it.

She's struggling with the _why_ of us. I know she doesn't doubt it, she's told me that when she's with me, she feels whole. I know exactly what she means by that.

In some ways we're polar opposites, and so we compliment each other. She's analytical, I'm intuitive. I kind of think we're learning from each other; I know we both value the other's point of view. I know I do, and she's always curious about what I think about something. When we talk about things, I come away with a broader view. Her perspective always shows me a slightly different side of things, but maybe it's because she's a little twisted- in a good way.

* * *

Late last night something really cool happened. She's into this Mexican poet, Octavio Paz. She fell asleep reading a book of his poems, the original Spanish on the left pages, an English translation on the right. I start to put it away, but then I began reading it. I guess I sat there for a long time, reading the English text, and trying out the shape and sounds of the Spanish in my head. I don't understand Spanish, but you could sense the beauty and rhythm in the original work.

Finally, I look up, and she's half awake, rolled over on her side, watching me read, with that little smile on her face.

"Do you read Spanish?" I ask her.

"A little," she tells me. She reaches for the book, finds a particular passage, and reads aloud from the left side. As she does, her voice shifts from that tightly controlled, habitual way she has of speaking, and opens up. Emotion begins to surface, and I find myself enjoying the texture and timbre of her voice. She really has a beautiful contralto.

She stops reading, and hands the book back to me. "Do you read English?" she smiles. I begin reading aloud the translation, and she sits up next to me, leaning on me and reading silently along.

_"…because two bodies, naked and entwined,_

_ leap over time, they are invulnerable,_

_ nothing can touch them, they return to the source._

_ there is no you, no I, no tomorrow,_

_ no yesterday, no names, the truth of two_

_ in a single body, a single soul,_

_ oh total being…"_

_-Octavio Paz, Sunstone/Piedra De Sol, 1957_

* * *

_**A/N: Octavio Paz Lozano was awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1990 and is one of the greatest poets of all time, IMHO. Check out his work, it dazzles even in translation. I've heard him described as an Existential Nihilist, something that I suspect Daria can appreciate; but being a young woman, she's still trying to figure out what she is.**_


	4. Chapter 4

**_Notes 4_**

I need to _deserve_ Daria.

Right now I'm managing to pay the rent on this place, so that she and Janey can concentrate on school. They both want to work but they can put the money they earn into savings for tuition, books and supplies. I can cover the food too, if we don't get too fancy.

We can make it, but it's gonna be close. Daria could really use some help from her parents, but she's still pissed off at them. She's chosen her relationship with me over her parents; Janey is still sticking by her belief that Daria would _not_ be better served by me getting out of her way. I don't know, I can't be objective when it comes to her. I'm just glad that I'm not the one she's pissed at; this woman is _intense._

At least I'm learning how to make a decent pizza.

Right now, that's all I've got. But beyond that-I don't know why she even listened to that crap that we did as Mystic Spiral. And I wrote most of that. Reading her books on poetry really drives home how much I didn't know; she really must have had a crush on me to not run away screaming.

I can do better than that. As a solo acoustic thing, I'll have nothing to hide behind. I need to put up or shut up; if I can't write decent music for her it's hopeless.

I won't fuck this up.

* * *

**A/N: this is taking place in the same AU as my other fic_ Mothers and Daughters_; Daria has had a falling out with her parents over her relationship with Trent. She, Jane and Trent are sharing a cottage in Boston, and her parents have refused to support her so long as she insists on this arrangement...**


	5. Chapter 5

Notes 5

Daria's started her fall semester… a Sophomore. For me, it started with a kind of gnawing insecurity. I'm afraid of losing her, afraid that she'll come to her senses and realize that she's made a mistake with me. It's something we've talked about, and I know it gets her frustrated. She's flat out told me she loves me, what else do I want from her?

So today, she texted me and asked if I could spare a couple of hours at noon. She wanted me to meet her on the Raft campus. I know she wouldn't ask me to take off time from work for something trivial, so I wasn't sure what to think.

I found myself getting paranoid.

It was getting close to 11:30, and honestly I was starting to feel a little sick. Did she want to tell me that she's found somebody new?

Ziggy was on to me. He knew something was up something was bothering me, and he pulls me aside and tells me to take the afternoon off.

I walk to the campus. It's not that far away, really, a few blocks. I round the corner of the main quad, and there she is, leaning against that big statue. She waves to me; she's there alone. Damn, she's so pretty.

I make my way to her, and she walks toward me. She's smiling, which kinda calms me down a little.

"Hey, Trent." She takes my hand, and stands on her toes, planting a little kiss on my cheek. In public, no less.

"I'm starving," she tells me, and pulls me by the hand to the main cafeteria. Along the way, she greets a few people that she seemed to know. She's holding my hand. In public.

We get our food, and we walk over to a table, sitting with some people that apparently she has at least a few classes with. She introduces me to her friends.

"Hey Nick, Karla, Rich, Nina; this is my boyfriend Trent."

I'm like, _whoa_. I thought that maybe she was kind of embarrassed to be seen with me, until I realize that I've never been with her on her own turf. It's always been at Ziggy's, at the movies, maybe shopping for groceries and stuff.

We hang out for a little while; her friends are cool. Nick, a tall redheaded guy, asks me about guitar lessons. I give him my card, and tell him to drop by Ziggy's anytime.

Daria seemed pleased about that, and eventually everyone broke away to go on with the rest of their day. She watched them go, and then turned back to me. She had an amused expression on her face, and then she broke out in a laugh.

"Don't you get it, Trent?"

I shook my head, clueless.

"I'm showing you off. I have a cool boyfriend, and I want people to know it. Guys hit on me, and I've been telling them I'm not interested, that I already have a boyfriend. And they still bug me. So I figured, maybe they don't believe me. So here you are, real, not an imaginary guy."

Whoa. "So is it okay if I kiss you in public?"

"For effect." She actually blushed a little, like she used to. "Don't make a habit of it, okay?" She says with that little smile of hers."I'm actually done with classes; I already turned in my paper for my history class. Don't you have to get back to work?"

I'm a little embarrassed to explain to her why Ziggy gave me the day off, but I want everything out in the open. She spends the afternoon with me, showing me the campus, where her classes are, where she hangs out between them.

"You can surprise me anytime, you know," she says. "Believe me when I tell you that I love _you."_


	6. Chapter 6

Notes 6

Daria has a hard time with acceptance without understanding.

I think most of us have a _little _trouble with simple acceptance. We need to build these constructs so we can convince ourselves that we understand things. Without that sense of purpose, of place, of structure- we can't wrap our heads around things. Even at its most simplistic, we make these universes where what we encounter can play within the rules of cause and effect.

Magic.

Love. Same thing.

She's going to have to come to terms with _us_ in her own unique way.

It's not about sex, even though that's part of it in a small way. I think she's afraid that she's being caught up in that flood of feelings that come along with a sexual awakening; that it's all physiological and instinctive at its root and that there's nothing beyond that.

Still, I know she's not a Nihilist. At least that's the term I think is right. I don't think that you can be in love and still think that at the core of everything, there's nothing.

So, I've decided to try offering her some plausible structure in the form of song. After all, isn't that really the reason art exists? Isn't making sense of things the thing that drives us to create?

I know she doesn't always need _logic _to understand. Sense can also be the recognition of something absolute.

Dammit, I'm starting to confuse myself.

I'm just gonna write songs for her. If she _gets_ it, then I know I've done something right.


	7. Chapter 7

_**Notes 7**_

You can't create without something to work with.

That's why the stuff I wrote for the Spiral was so crappy. Pointless songs, going nowhere, pies made with mud.

But this is different.

I see a woman; flawed, sensitive, exquisitely human.

Striving for impossible things, like honesty and truth always. Impossible because we can never be truly honest about ourselves, because that in itself can prove to be fatal, and because truth assumes the existence of absolutes. Perfection is unattainable, and so she contents herself with doing the best she can.

Wait, what does that mean? Where did that just come from? Where did _she _come from, and how is it that our paths have converged?

For now, I unwrap my heart and marvel at what I have found.

Strange.

Other people seem to understand. How is it that something private, that flashes between two people alone, triggers universal resonance? How is it that beauty so long cloaked can emerge, transfigured, unfolding from a drab cocoon?

I have a flawed human voice, yet somehow she hears beyond it.

I have a modest talent, yet she reaches and with stunning grace lifts out my heart.

In her hands, I am exposed, the core revealed; she gives it back, brilliant, light as air, and full of song.

Whoa. Maybe I should open a window.

Did I mention that I'm getting a really good response to my new work? I may be getting a gig at the _Blue Moon_, which is a really cool venue. Laid back vibe, smart audience, and good eats. I think Daria and Janey will be right at home there, and we might be getting at least one nice meal a week out of the deal.

We'll see.


	8. Chapter 8

_**Notes 8**_

Daria and I have been together for almost a year.

Monique and I were together longer, if you add it up, but in a single stretch without getting to the point where we'd want to kill each other and then break up? Not even close.

I still remember that day I drove Janey up to visit Daria at her dorm, the afternoon her Thanksgiving break began. I had been thinking about her a lot, wondering how she was doing. The house was feeling empty, even with Janey still there, and I had kinda figured it out.

We hugged in the doorway of her dorm, at first just as friends, but when I felt her in my arms, felt her hair against my cheek, I _knew._ God, she smelled so good. I was breathing slowly, deeply, and it kind of seemed that she was doing the same.

That night, laying on her dorm room floor in Janey's old sleeping bag, I could smell her skin. Man, that sounds so odd to write down. The word _smell_ makes it sound like it's a bad thing, but it's not. It's a trigger for emotion, like the smell of cookies baking makes me remember what it was like to be a little kid. Cookies smell like love.

At first, I thought that it might be because she'd used that bag when she would sleep over at our place, in Janey's room. She could have used one of the beds down the hall, but they would talk into the night, just hanging out in the same space and then fall asleep together.

But no, that bag needed to be washed. It kind of stunk, the bad kind of smell.

The good cookie smell was because she was laying in her bed, just a few feet away.

So I rolled over towards her, bag and all, a little at a time, just wanting to enjoy her scent a little. Pretty soon I was right up against her bed, and I started thinking that maybe I should move away a little when she got out of bed and stepped on me.

A year. I want to do something, but I've never thought about things like anniversaries. That just seems so normal.

I guess I should have waited till now to get her initials tattooed on my butt.

Oh yeah, almost forgot to write this. I got the gig at the Blue Moon.


	9. Chapter 9

_**Notes 9**_

I thought she wasn't one to celebrate anniversaries.

When I told her it was a toe ring, she just smiled. It did kinda fit on her little toe. Then she tried it on her ring finger, and it fit. Perfectly.

So we started talking about getting married. It just kind of happened. We both agreed that it was too soon, especially with her college and her job. Things are changing; it's all we can do to keep afloat. We both figured that it should wait until after she gets her degree, so that's about two and a half years, more or less.

Later that night, she shows me her anniversary present for me.

This time around, she's chosen a titanium ring, which she says doesn't itch much at all.

It looks hot on her belly button. Smart girl. Now _that's _really hot.

Somehow I have to figure out how to set aside enough money for an engagement ring. I can come up with a bunch of bullshit reasons why I want to get her one, but the honest truth is I want everybody to know. Daria is going to be my wife. I don't deny it; I'm warning off other guys. Lay off, she's going to marry _me._

Look at this. I'm not coming out and saying it but she's _my_ girlfriend. _Mine._ Mine, mine, mine. _Go the hell away,_ losers.

I hope to God she never reads this. I sound like a kid.

As if anyone could truly own another person, and especially someone like Daria. It's simply that we have each trusted the other with our hearts.

_So lay off,_ losers.


	10. Chapter 10

_**Notes 10**_

I sense the machinations of the Barksdale and Morgendorffer women at work.

Not too long ago, Daria's Aunt Amy shows up at the Blue Moon.

Yesterday, Quinn shows up at Daria's office. Janey and I swung by to pick Daria up, and her sister's with her. I was all set to hate the evening; I mean, I know that Daria and her sister are talking now; I get that. But that girl totally disrespected Daria in high school, something I just couldn't wrap my head around. I guess sisters can do that kind of shit to each other, but Janey and I are so close that I have to try hard to imagine why Daria's own sister would have been so mean to her.

I guess I can't be too objective with the two Morgendorffer girls. Daria was good at cloaking, but how could Quinn not appreciate how cool her sister was, even in high school? I always thought of Princess Grace (I think that's what Janey used to call her) as sort of cute but totally shallow. I mean, she used to deny that Daria was her sister. I mean, come on…I could see Daria saying that, though.

But hell, Quinn's grown up. She's actually kinda cool. She's looking out for her big sister, trying to figure out how to get Daria and Helen to work things out. She didn't really talk much, not the motormouth I remembered that would go on and on about the stupidest things.

She observed a lot. Watched and listened to me during my set, and when I'd finish a song, her applause was genuine. It was a little odd, actually; when I'd glance over at the girls I realized that Daria and Quinn had the same eyes. And from time to time, as the evening went on, I would catch something like admiration flit across her face as she and Daria would talk.

She's not the self-centered brat anymore. She's maturing, learning to get past appearances, learning what things really matter.

Her Aunt Amy drove her to the airport this afternoon, and they stopped by Ziggy's on the way. I was finishing up with the last of the performance reviews when she showed up in my office. She stepped over to me and gave me a little hug, and spoke quietly into my ear.

"Thank you for taking care of my Sister."


	11. Chapter 11

_**Notes 11**_

I just took what I think is going to be my favorite photo of Daria for a long time.

I just got home after my last guitar student, and found her fast asleep at the kitchen table, head on a book, laptop in front of her. There was something about the light, and I couldn't help but to just stare at her for awhile. She had taken her glasses off for what she probably intended to be a short rest for her eyes. Her head was resting on her curved arm and the book she was reading, and her glasses were folded, still lightly held in her fingers.

She's such a subtle beauty. I mean, she's pretty and all that, but there's way more than that. I could see that she was a cute girl the day I met her. But she had a way of hiding in plain sight; she had kind of honed that to perfection. It was a bunch of little things, like her careful way of speaking when she chose to, her expressionless face, and her silence, which was most of the time, at least around me. She used to avoid eye contact with me at first, and when she did look at me, she would blush.

After awhile, I started to appreciate her more and more. Her wit, her sense of humor, that intellect. And that smile. For the longest time, it was a subtle half-smile, the kind Janey described as a _La Gioconda _smile. A full Daria smile was a rare thing back then, like a total solar eclipse.

Right now, there's something going on in her head that's making her smile in her sleep.

I look around, and there's Janey over on the sofa, stretched out with a book on her face. She's got all the lights on, and there are books open to illustrations on the floor. Asleep, as well. Her camera's on the floor, so I pick it up. She's got lots of space on this memory card, so I borrow it to sneak a photo.

Years from now, our kids will look at that picture and see that their mom was a rare beauty even back then.

Looking around, seeing how hard these two are working at their studies, I have to smile. This place is really pretty small for the three of us, but we're getting by. Giving them the ability to focus is reward enough.

I make sure that Daria isn't working on something that isn't due tonight or in the morning- she rarely puts things off to the last minute but I check anyway. She's so tired I carry her to the bed, and unlace her boots. I manage to get her jeans off without getting an elbow in the eye, and manage to get her top and her bra off without getting too distracted. I pull her favorite sleep shirt on over that wonderful hair, and tuck her under the covers.

I put her glasses on her nightstand, where she knows they'll be.

I have to study her face before I turn off the light. She is so beautiful. I lean in to smell her hair, and her eyes flutter open.

"Go away, you pervert," she says with a little smile. I kiss her on her forehead and move to get up; she pulls me back down. "If you get up before I do, wake me up. Be creative." She kisses me again, this time full on the lips, and then she rolls over.

The next morning, she gets up before I do.

She's very creative, and I'm really awake now.

An hour later we make it to the kitchen for coffee. Janey's put a post-it on the coffeemaker:

_Jeez, you guys are noisy. I was inspired to go wake Matt up. Trent, bring your guitar and something like meat to burn to the park, we'll meet you there at around noon. We'll bring Matt's grille and whatever we can find in his fridge. Remember to stay off the table, I still eat there._

It was the most pleasant day off that I can remember.

**_A/N: okay, okay, pointless fluff. Forgot where I was going with this and just decided to throw it in anyway..._**


	12. Chapter 12

_**Notes 12**_

I was wondering where Daria and Janey had gone off to when I wrapped up my set.

Cassie came up to me and told me that my dinner was over in the lounge. She gave me a weird smile.

"No burgers tonight, Trent. Check it out."

Something was up, I could tell, but I sure wasn't ready for it when I came around to the corner booth.

There was Daria and Janey, and Daria's mom Helen. They were talking quietly, and I'll be damned if Daria didn't have a smile on her face.

I must have had a shocked look on my face, because Janey started laughing at me.

Helen stood up, and looked me in the eye.

"Hello, Trent," she said quietly, holding out her hand. "I wanted to say this to you in person." She paused, took a breath, and then went on. "I'm sorry. I completely misjudged you." She smiled at Daria, and looked back at me. "Daria wanted me to hear some of your music, and I have to admit it wasn't at all what I expected. Amy and Quinn were right, Trent, your music and your love for my daughter is beautiful."

From what I know firsthand, and from what I hear from Daria and Janey, this kind of thing from Helen is rare indeed.

I sat, the only open seat being next to Helen. Daria was on the other side of the table.

Helen retrieved her handbag and reached into an outside pocket. She handed me a check for Daria's share of the rent through the end of the year, in one lump sum, and beginning from January. "I'm sorry this is almost a year late, and I'm hoping you'll ease up on yourself."

"I don't know, I'm kind of used to it now; if I hung around the house more, I'd probably be distracting Daria. Maybe I'll cut back on my teaching schedule, and take the girls out to eat more often. And Daria needs a car, at least to get to work." _And I can put money aside for her ring._

"Trent, please give me a dollar," Helen smiled. I reach in my pocket and pull out a wrinkled bill.

"No need to tip here, Helen," I say. "I'm kind of staff."

"I just sold you and Daria my car," Helen laughed. "You can drive it back here after you all come for Christmas." She pulled out a printed bill of sale, her signature and Daria's already on it. She passed it to me along with a pen.

"I guess it needs some work," I smile to Helen, signing it and handing it back.

"Not at all, it's only a year old. When I made partner, I got a company car. I talked it over with Quinn, and she's happy about it. She already has a car that she bought herself."

"Hey, Mom, wait… isn't Dad's car older? I could take his, and he could have your SUV."

"Daria, I'm going to buy him another car. Dad's is eight years old."

"It's in decent shape, and besides, it's smaller and easier to drive. The traffic around here is awful."

"Daria, I can have the badges removed if you want," Helen glanced at me and smirked. "By the time you make it back to Boston, it'll be nice and dirty."

Daria laughed. "Thanks, mom."

"Daria calls my car a bourgemobile," Helen smirked. "It embarrasses her."

Just then, Cassie brings the steaks. Helen's ordered a bottle of really nice Cabernet, and two glasses. Janey and Daria give us little looks, and Helen excuses herself and heads to the lady's room. As soon as she's gone, Cassie brings two more glasses over.

Helen returns, and somehow doesn't notice the extra glasses or the two young women helping themselves.

Helen holds her glass aloft, and smiles at Janey, and then me. "To friendships, to family, and to love."


	13. Chapter 13

_**Notes 13**_

We got a cat.

Not sure where she came from, but she's only a few months old. I came home and found her in the garage, wet and cold. I dried her off as best I could with a towel from the dryer, and brought her inside.

"Look what I found," I tell Janey and Daria. "Can we keep her?"

The girls roll their eyes and look at each other.

"Look pathetic," I tell the cat.

The girls were okay with her staying, as long as we don't spot a "lost cat" poster in the neighborhood.

She was really hungry. Daria found a little tuna salad in the fridge and warmed it up for her, and she polished it off in a flash.

When I left for the all night drugstore to buy some cat litter and food the girls were both on the floor playing with her like little kids.

The next morning I could hear little feet running up and down the hall.

I open the door; there were wisps of cotton all over the place. Turns out Janey was experimenting with reinforcing plaster with cotton fibers and had left a big roll of first aid cotton batting on the floor; the cat had found it early in the morning and had decorated the house with it.

"She must have been a boll weevil in a past life," Janey said, more amused than mad. The cat ducked into our bedroom while we set about cleaning up.

Daria woke up to a godawful retching as Weevil hucked up a mixture of fur and cotton fibers, apparently having first climbed up onto her as she was sleeping.

"I'm never complaining about my alarm clock again," Daria yawned as she handed me the cat, wadded up kleenix in her other hand. "Wanna see what a hairball looks like?"

At breakfast, Daria's munching on toast, a little smile at the corners of her mouth. Weevil's climbed into her lap. Janey and I look at each other.

"What?" Daria says.

That's the thing about having a pet; it makes you more aware of what it means to be human. Like our capacity for compassion, and the sense of purpose that comes from caring for another creature. I've always known that Daria is going to be a great mother, but it's something that has always been an abstraction. Now, though, with a purring kitten on her lap, she's unable to keep that cool front up. Her maternal instinct is showing a bit.


End file.
